Eugene Debs is one of the less-studied American historical figures, relative to his perceived importance in his own era. This is especially true in that his life story can be read as an illustration of the broader story of industrial unionism and political radicalism in the United States during the late 19th and early 20th centuries – a story which is usually left out of the overall American historical narrative, perhaps by villainous capitalist textbook publishers. The Bending Cross is the earlier of the two main biographies of Debs, the other being Citizen and Socialist by Nick Salvatore. Written during the height of the Second Red Scare – its publication got the author blacklisted for a number of years – The Bending Cross was clearly, necessarily, a labor of love, which attitude sometimes comes through in an impossibly saintly portrayal of Debs. Nevertheless, this is usually avoided, and overall Ray Ginger produced the full and detailed story of Debs’ life, including some important insights into his personality, motivation, and his weaknesses as a public figure and a leader – which he was, no matter how strenuously he denied it. Just as important, Ginger provides a very clear explanation of how Debs’ career fit into the almost impossibly complicated world of trade union and Socialist/Communist politics at the turn of the last century. The entire thing is readable and well-organized, and is a good introduction to the subject.
Two main insights about Debs' career stand out, among the many covered in The Bending Cross: the extent to which he was politically radicalized by, and almost in direct proportion to, the degree of suppression that he experienced; and the extent to which the lack of unity and discipline on the American left during Debs’ era – which Debs’ increasing radicalism sometimes exacerbated – handicapped actual progress towards the empowerment and improvement of the working class in this country.
For a man who finished his career running for President – from federal prison – with the slogan “I am a Bolshevik,” 1870s Eugene Debs comes off as almost adorably moderate and middle-American. While working for The Brotherhood of Locomotive Firemen (BLF), an early trade union that was really more of a life-insurance company with a newsletter, Debs actively discouraged and condemned strikes, and in Ginger’s words, “continued to stand aloof from the more radical philosophy of Sam Gompers and [the AFL],” which is hilarious given the two men’s later history. Debs ran for, and was elected, town clerk and state assemblyman. He married a prosperous grocer’s daughter – his long-suffering and tremendously supportive wife, Kate – and lived in a tidy Victorian home in Terre Haute, as befit a young, self-educated go-getter in gilded age America. Jimmy Stewart would have played him in the movie.
The Bending Cross makes clear that Debs’ movement towards an increasingly radical political and economic worldview was a direct result of the suppression and failure that he experienced in striving for what were initially relatively moderate objectives, through relatively moderate means. He served in the State Legislature, only to see his railroad safety bill watered down by corporate interests, so he decided to work through the BLF to secure safety concessions from the railroad companies. When the BLF and its cooperative attitude was ignored, Debs formed an alliance with other railroad unions. When this fell apart due to infighting, he formed an industry-wide union, the American Railway Union (ARU), and led it through a successful strike. When the ARU was crushed, literally at gunpoint, he met some prominent Socialists in jail and came to the conclusion that capitalism itself was the problem and socialism was the answer, and helped to organize the Socialist Party of America. When the Party was actively suppressed by the Federal government, he found himself in a prison cell, calling for revolution with the likes of Emma Goldman. Debs consistently tried one thing until it failed or he was actively stopped, then reassessed and – crucially -- invariably came to the conclusion that a more radical solution was needed, and proceeded from there, rather than attempting more limited tactical changes or making a steadier effort along one line. This severely limited what he was able to accomplish, compared to even Gompers, or to more moderate and disciplined Socialist politicians such as Daniel Hoan. Late in Debs’ story, another labor leader – John L. Lewis – appears on the scene, and is mentioned in passing. Given all that Lewis was able to accomplish in industrial unionism – an ultimately highly viable concept that Debs pioneered – in the 1930s and 40s, one can only speculate what a man with Debs’ talent could have done for the American worker had he stuck to his views and doubled down after the defeat of the ARU.
Debs was not alone in this lack of discipline and consistent focus, and the other key lesson of this book is the extent to which this handicapped him and his nominal political allies. Another reviewer compared these to the Judean People’s Front / People’s Front of Judea from Monty Python’s Life of Brian, and this is apt. Debs was working in a political environment with dozens of unions, lacking the overall structure of the AFL-CIO and with a slew of short-lived political parties with the word “socialist” in the title, many built around a single charismatic personality or very specific quack theory, and none with strong ties to the labor movement. Many of these organizations worked at cross-purposes with each other, or were openly hostile – even though many were divided only by minor differences in ideology or personality. While Debs tried to split the difference between these groups by relying on his strong personal relationships with their members, and with the occasional editorial urging unity, his discomfort with the national spotlight, and reluctance to be seen as a “Moses,” leading labor out of slavery, kept him from being a true unifying figure and building a party that could control the personal ambitions of those who had lost sight of the common objective of improving the welfare of the American working class. This meant that in an era when the Labour Party in the United Kingdom and the SPD and PS in Germany and France were uniting trade unionists, middle-class Fabian Socialists and professional politicians and journalists, the American movement remained divided and weak. Though Debs was certainly not exclusively to blame, one wonders what he could have accomplished with a more concrete vision – both for himself and for the organization that he reluctantly led.
In the end, Debs’ personal integrity and honor secured his place among the great men of American history, but his weaknesses as a leader prevented him from achieving his full potential, or accomplishing all that he might have. To his credit, Ray Ginger paints this very clearly.